Tess Gerritsen - Peggy Sue Got Murdered

Nicos was a good boy, insisted Mr. and Mrs. Biagi. It seemed to be a universal mantra of parents in South Lexington- he was a good boy . A kid could pick up a gun and commit mass murder, and that refrain would still pop out of his parents' mouths.

The Biagis had no idea what Nicos had been doing with that needle and tourniquet. He had not been a drug addict. He had been a student at Louis French Junior College and had worked nights as a stockboy in the Big E supermarket in Bellemeade. He had bought a new car, paid for his own clothes.

And his own drugs , M. J. thought.

After an hour, she and Adam gave up trying to break through that wall of parental denial. Yes, Nicos must truly have been a saint, they agreed, and left the apartment.

Their two bodyguards were lolling on the front steps, watching a little girl skip rope.

"… Mama called the doctor and the doctor said,

"Feel the rhythm of the heart, ding dong,

"Feel the rhythm of the heart…"

As M. J. and Adam came outside, the girl stopped her chant and looked up at them.

"We're through here," said M. J. "Didn't learn a damn thing."

The two boys glanced at each other with a wry look of We coulda told you that .

The girl was still staring at them.

"Okay, let's try Xenia Vargas," said Adam. "Do you know where she lived?"

"Two blocks over," piped up the girl with the jump rope. "But she's dead."

For the first time, M. J. focused on the child. She was about eight years old, small and wiry, with a tangled bird's nest of hair. Her smock dress had been patched so many times it was hard to make out the pattern of the original fabric.

"Get outta here, Celeste," said one of the boys. "Your mama's callin' you."

"I don't hear nothing."

"Well, she's callin'."

"Can't be. She's workin' till seven. So there."

M. J. crouched down beside the girl. "Did you know Xenia?" she asked.

The girl swiped at her runny nose and looked at her. "Sure. I seen her around all the time."

"Where?"

"All over. She'd hang out at the Laundromat."

"Anyone else hang out with her?"

"Sometimes. The boys, they liked talkin' to Xenia."

"Ain't all they liked doin' to Xenia," one of the bodyguards said with a snicker.

Celeste fixed him with a dirty look. "Yeah, I seen those boys 'round your sister too, Leland."

Leland's snicker died. He gave Celeste an equally dirty look. The girl smiled back.

"She ever hang out with Nicos Biagi?" asked Adam.

"Sometimes."

"What about this lady?" M. J. asked. She took out the morgue photo of Jane Doe. For a second, she hesitated to show it to the child, then decided she had to.

Celested glanced at the picture with a clinical eye. "Dead, huh?" M. J. nodded. "Yeah," said Celeste. "I don't know her name, 'xactly, but I seen her with Xenia. She's not a regular."

"A regular?" inquired Adam.

"She doesn't live here. She just visits."

"Oh. A tourist."

"Yeah, like you."

"Celeste," said Leland. " Scram ."

The girl didn't move.

They started up the street. A block away, M. J. glanced back and saw the little figure still watching them, the jump rope trailing from her hand.

"She's all by herself," said M. J. "Doesn't anyone look after her?"

"Everyone here knows her," said Leland. "Hell, they can't get rid of the brat."

Celeste was skipping rope again, her quick steps bringing her along the sidewalk in undisguised pursuit.

They ignored her and walked two blocks to Building Three. Leland directed them to the sixth floor. M. J. knocked at the door.

A woman answered-a girl, really-with makeup thick as putty and plucked eyebrows reduced to two unevenly drawn black slashes. Heavy earrings jangled as she looked first at M. J., then-much longer-at Adam. "Yeah?"

"I'm from the medical examiner's office," explained M. J. "We think your roommate-"

"I'm not talkin' to no one from the Health Department."

"I'm not from the Health Department. I'm from-"

"I went in for my shots. I'm cured, okay? So leave me alone." She started to close the door, but Leland stuck his hand out to block it.

"They wanna know 'bout Xenia. I brought 'em here."

"Why?"

" 'Cause this where she lived."

"No, dodo . Why they askin'?"

"She died of a drug OD," said M. J. "Did you know that?"

The girl glanced nervously at Leland. "Yeah. Maybe I did."

"Were you aware she was shooting up?"

A cautious shrug. "Maybe."

Adam moved forward to interject himself into the dialogue. "Could we, perhaps, come inside for a moment?" he asked. "Just to talk?" He smiled at her, a brilliant smile that showed off all those perfect white teeth of his. A smile, M. J. suspected, that few females could resist.

The girl seemed suitably impressed. Her gaze took in his clothes-shirt without a tie, casual slacks, all of it displayed on a superb frame.

"You from the Health Department too?" she asked.

"Not exactly…"

"You a cop?"

"No."

That seemed good enough for her. With a coquettish jangle of earrings, she indicated they could come in.

The place was like a Bedouin tent. Heavy drapes hung over the windows, casting the room in a purple gloom. Instead of chairs there were cushions on the floor and a single low-slung couch, its pillows embroidered with silk elephants and mirror chips. A familiar odor permeated the room- pot , thought M. J., with maybe the side-scent of patchouli. She settled on the couch next to Adam. Leland and his buddy stood off to the side, as though trying to blend into the Oriental wall hanging.

The girl-she told them her name was Fran- plopped down on a cushion and said, "Xenia and I, we didn't talk a lot, you know? So don't go thinking I can answer a whole lot of questions."

"Did you knew she was a junkie?" asked M. J.

"She liked her stuff, I guess."

"Where'd she get it from?"

"Lots of places." Fran's gaze flicked sideways, toward Leland. She licked her lips. "Mostly out of the neighborhood."

"Where?"

"I don't know. I guess she had people she'd go to, uptown. I'd have nothin' to do with it, see. I'm into natural stuff. Stuff you get off plants."

"Did she know Nicos Biagi?"

Fran laughed. "Hell. Nicos was everybody's friend."

M. J. took out the morgue photo of Jane Doe. "What about this girl? Recognize her?"

Fran paled as she realized it was a corpse she was looking at. She swallowed. "Yeah. That's one of Nicos's friends. Eliza."

"She's dead, too," said M. J. "Shot up the same stuff as Nicos and Xenia. Killed all three of them."

Fran handed back the photo and looked away.

"She was your roommate, Fran," said Adam. "She must have told you something."

"Look, she just lived here, okay? We weren't like major sisters or somethin'. She had her room, I had mine."

"What about her room? Are her things still there?"

"Naw, they already come and searched it."

"Who did?"

"Cops, who else?"

M. J. frowned at her. "What?"

"You know, those creeps with the badges and billy clubs? They come and picked it all apart for evidence."

"Did you get a name? A precinct?"

"Hell, you think I'm gonna argue when some guy's shovin' his badge in my face?"

M. J. glanced at Adam, saw his look of puzzlement. Why had the police shown up, and what had they been searching for?

That question troubled her all the way back down the six flights of stairs. She and Adam stepped out into the pale sunshine and blinked up at the Project towers. Those prison towers again, she thought. A constant reminder that this was a world not easily escaped.

Or easily penetrated. They'd spent half the day in South Lexington, and had no information to show for it, except the knowledge that the three victims had indeed been acquainted.